


bloodthirst

by alcloe



Category: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal
Genre: Gen, Minor P5R Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, feral!goro, feral!phantom thieves, nothing explicitly said but people who understand what's going on will know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcloe/pseuds/alcloe
Summary: Akechi Goro harbors a lot of anger within him.Who would have thought the Phantom Thieves did as well?(an exploration of a very bloodthirsty goro and if the phantom thieves were just as bloodthirsty as he is)
Relationships: shuake if you squint - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 104





	bloodthirst

**Author's Note:**

> P5R destroyed me so have me figuring out the limits of feral Goro to find out a way to write him because P5R fucked with my characterization of Goro that I have to figure it all out again.
> 
> It gets meta in different parts because I have the power also I have frustrations for P5's writing.
> 
> Also I wrote this for Goro Day originally but it's late so... happy late Goro Day!
> 
> Not beta read we die like men (uncreative title is uncreative but i'm tired)

People are such an open book, in Goro’s humble opinion. Make the best first impression, society says, as they don a plastic smile and a straight back, pleasant and lovely and not at all hiding the exasperation behind bored eyes. It isn’t hard to get a read on how a person acts when they’re so obvious about it. It’s all so very dull to him. It isn’t difficult for him to get someone under his thumb. After all, all he needs is a subtle flutter of his eyelashes, a demure smile, and a polite, soft voice for them to fall hook, line, and sinker. It’s a tried and true ruse used far too many times in his years long career.

But do all of these people have to be so annoying?

They all hide behind their poorly crafted masks and don’t even try to hide how much they rub up against him just to get on his good side. He knows the man and lady who host the talk show he frequents are looking to flay his skin open just for a juicy story for their show to get the best ratings. He knows the fangirls who sit in the front ache to come up to him and crowd him for his nice personality, his dashing good looks, and crow about his newest interview. He knows at least one of them is looking to get into his pants.

It’s no wonder Goro finds solace in ripping Shadows to shreds within the annals of the Metaverse.

The pulsing halls of Mementos had been bone chilling the first time he stumbled in, years ago, but now, these halls grant him a chance of reprieve. He knows this is the one place he can truly shed his mask, the one place where he won’t be judged just because  _ his tie is crooked, his hair is messy, there are bag under his eyes oh no what happened did he not get enough sleep last night— _

The Shadow wails so loud Goro’s ear ring as his serrated sword sinks into the Shadow’s black and many faced flesh. It flails, trying to get out of his grip, but it can’t, as the black and white spindly limbs of the trickster god pin it down to the pulsing floors of the mass’s collective unconsciousness. 

_ —Because if he doesn’t look prim and proper then there’s something wrong but of course there’s something it’s not that he cares about their opinions he doesn’t at all what he cares about is how much they whine how much they look to him like a sort of holy being as if he has the answers to all their problems but guess what—? _

He pushes his blade into it deeper, teeth squelching as it disappears side. Slowly, he starts to rake it up towards its shoulder. The red glowing blade’s teeth glow white hot as where blade meets flesh begins to sizzle from the suddenly burning steel. It’s wailing even louder now, as he yanks his blade past malformed ribs and spine, cuts into sinew and muscle, all oozing red and black blood. He knows he can just yank it clean through, but he wants to make sure it  _ hurts _ .

_ —That savior of yours thinks you’re a waste of his time and wants you to stay away from him thank you very much but it’s not like he can he can get what he wants because fuck this persona, fuck this fake ass demure bullshit— _

Goro twists his sword inside the Shadow’s internals and changes direction towards its neck. It screeches and flails and a human voice bursts out of it,  _ it hurts it hurts please stop I’m begging you please…! _

The small smile on his face stretches into a delighted grin. 

_ —Fuck this charade, he wants to show exactly how he feels about the hosts, about the fangirls, about Shido and his disgusting henchman that don’t know the meaning of personal space—! _

It falls, screeching and shrieking in pain, and dissolves into a puddle of rapidly forming crimson and ebon liquid. Its final cry echoes through Mementos’ bloody red tunnels.

It’s music to Goro’s ears.

_ Soon. Soon it will be all over. _

* * *

It isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

An unfortunate thorn in his side appears, so close to the promised day of Goro’s ultimate triumph named the Phantom Thieves.

And stars, they are so fucking annoying.

They reek of inexperience; a collection of teenagers who stumbled into the Metaverse at the wrong place and the wrong time, deciding to go with “stealing criminal’s hearts” as they say since it seemed to be the best path forward. You know, unlike the other path that is arguably safer, less life threatening, and less in Goro’s way: stopping their operations all together.

Not to mention the fact that they’re all cardboard cutouts.

Niijima Makoto is the designated strategist. Sakura Futaba is the one who guides them through Palaces and Mementos. Sakamoto Ryuji is the right hand man with the brain of chipmunk. They’re all annoyingly linear; it makes Goro want to heave and die.

The only one he doesn’t really mind is Joker, in fact. Kurusu Akira, who had caught his attention after meeting him on that one fateful June day. He’s the only one Goro can’t pin down because he hides. Oh, he hides so very well.

Especially when he comes to know Joker as the man with many masks, quite literally. It intrigues him.

And then it infuriates him, because Joker has such a tight leash on his thieves in battle it makes Goro sick.

Joker takes immediate control of his team as soon as he rips off a Shadow’s mask and commands them all one by one as if they were in a turn based game. All of the thieves advise each other on where to aim and what moves to use. When they get hit, and this is a when because of the nature of their strategy, they don’t rage or get angry, but instead move on with nary a complaint. There’s the odd insult and a sharp reprimand sprinkled in, but their stratagem moves quickly and efficiently. There’s no enjoyment in battle when he fights alongside the Phantom Thieves, which suffice it to say, fucking sucks.

They’re overly cautious about every single thing. Not that it’s bad—well, that’s a lie, it’s fucked because there’s eight of them and one of him and he remembers a good amount of weaknesses for the Shadows he’s come up against after two years. The casino’s Shadows’ weaknesses aren’t hard to memorize. 

What he wouldn’t give to shout at him, at all of them. Let your inhibitions run wild! This is a battle, not a fucking tea party! Get angry when you want to! Blow the enemy to smithereens, Queen! Glaciate your opponents until their hearts stop beating, until their limbs fall off, until the room becomes encased in your cold frustration, Fox! Break minds and plunge your foes into endless nightmares, Joker!

But all Goro does is wear his smile and follow Joker’s orders. He falls into step with the Phantom Thieves and heeds the leader’s commands even as his anger simmers with every call.

So what if he loses control and growls at Shadows with the bare minimum of his righteous fury? Noir is doing the same thing.

Goro wants to just walk up to Joker and spit into his face just how asinine he thinks the Phantom Thieves’ careful strategy is, but he knows he shouldn’t.

But he wants to.

He does so when Kurusu Akira sits, bloody and beaten, at the other end of his silencer.

“And you and your goody two shoes band of thieves really did piss me off, you know that? What with your carefully thought out battle strategy and your complete control over your teammates’ actions, it infuriated me.”

“Did it really?” Akira’s face doesn’t change as he speaks. “I thought you would’ve liked how organized we were.”

“Liked it? Don’t make me laugh,” Goro spits. “Battle is made for letting go of your inhibitions and letting your body guide you. There is a strategy to it, yes, for you can’t go into a battle with guns blazing, but your battle style was annoying linear. It was disgusting.”

Akira nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

_ Bang. _

“In what mind, might I ask?”

* * *

Goro almost regrets making his last words—sorry, “last” words to Akira a quip.

Especially when his words were so, so wrong.

The Phantom Thieves aren’t careful, tactful, and linear. No, they’re ruthless, cruel, and the most electrifying band of fighters Goro’s ever faced in his life.

Gone is that carefully constructed strategy. There are no turns, no orders, just raw and utter chaos that unleashes as soon as the two shadows he had under his control go mad.

All he can do is watch and oh. Oh, it is mesmerizing.

All of the Phantom Thieves fly at the unhinged Cerberus and Cu Chulainn without an ounce of caution. There is an order to their attacks, but not the linear monstrosity that it had been. They cast their strongest spells and their harshest physical attacks without an inch of remorse. And that’s when he sees it.

The manic grin. The crazed eyes.

The Shadows have no chance against them, especially eight versus two.

Joker, latched onto the great Cerberus's head, raises his dagger and plunges it straight into the lion's forehead. The great lion howls and starts to raise it up to bat him away, but like a lightning bolt, Skull is there. He smashes his morningstar into Cerberus’s front paw so hard something (not the morningstar, something more weak) cracks. He pulls away only to smash it again. And again. And again until the entire leg is reduced to a mangled mess of bloody fur and bones and Cerberus staggers on its paws and stumbles to the ground, bringing Joker with it. But the leader is unfazed. Joker yanks out his dagger. The blade dripping black and red, he mutters something, something Goro can’t hear. The dagger suddenly lights up in fire.

He stabs it straight into Cerberus’s eye, just as Noir comes around from the defeated and decapitated Cu Chalainn (Fox and Queen are watching her; their weapons are covered from hilt to blade, on every knuckle in black and red, Queen’s pistol is shoved so harshly in Cu Chalainn’s head it’s denting) and swings her bloody axe into the great beast’s stomach.

Cerberus roars (birdsong birdsong sweet birdsong)—

—And only makes it easier for Skull to walk over, a manic grin and a delighted spark in his eye as he props his shotgun into the Shadow’s mouth and opens fire.

Goro barely even registers his shadows disappearing in a cloud of ashes and grime before something burning hot wraps around his torso and flings him into the engine room’s filthy floor. He chokes out a gasp as white hot pain pounds in his head. He moves to stand up, but whatever is around his waist only tightens. There’s a crack of a whip—the whip around his waist—before he’s snapped back onto the ground. The air rushes out of his lungs in a choked, cut off cry. He squeezes his eyes shut, groaning. Loki screeches in his mind, delighted, enraged, mind numbingly crazed.

_ Yes, yes this is what you’ve always wanted! _

“Could you tell it was all an act?” Goro shakily lifts his head up to see Oracle, a bare few meters away from her mother’s murderer. Her goggles hide her expression from him, but he can feel the malice in her frame, not unlike her fellow thieves, watching the two of them with eyes like hawks. “We had to hide it all from you. All of our anger, all of our hatred for people during the run through Sae’s Palace.” A smile appears on her face, innocent in everything but appearance. “Masks and all that, right?”

Masks and all that, Goro agrees but will never say. Instead, his gaze shifts to the Phantom Thieves, fresh from their kill. Ferocious. Murderous. Their eyes are wide and planted on him, barely blinking as they watch for his every move. Some of them are leaning on their haunches, others on their weapons, wiped clean of any Shadow remnants. Any second, they’ll pounce. They’ll rip him to shreds and hang every piece of his skin up like their Phantom Thieves banner.

“But now you’ve revealed yourself to us. Don’t you know what that does, hm? Can you guess?” Oracle’s smile twists into a feral grin that splits her face in half. “Now everyone’s mad.”

Oracle steps away.

And the Phantom Thieves charge towards him, masks blazing in blue fire and weapons ready to kill.

As if Goro would let them.

Goro shouts for Robin Hood, but it comes out guttural, in that familiar tone he uses for Loki, but he doesn’t care. The white clad man materializes out of blue flames and slashes at the whip with the tip of his arrow. The glowing rope dies out and flops lifelessly to the floor. An outraged yell comes from the group of terrifying, bloodthirsty, (absolutely delightful) thieves but he doesn’t care. Goro pushes himself up to his feet. He scrambles backward, away from the sudden flurry of gunshots. He needs to get his bearings. If he doesn’t, the Phantom Thieves will definitely rip him to shreds.

Gritting his teeth, Goro admits he did indeed make a fat mistake of misjudging them, but he’s never going to give them the satisfaction of saying that out loud.

He shakes his head. Grasping his mask and latching onto his link to Robin Hood, he grins.

“Persona!”

* * *

Within ten minutes—he doesn’t know, it feels longer—everything goes to shit in the best and worst way.

They’re monsters. If he thought they were ruthless against other foes, it’s completely different when they’re all out for his blood.

They all rush at him, but never all at the same time. Sometimes it’s in twos, other times it’s in threes, one time Joker flung a Concentrated Eigaon his way that he burned a massive hole in the steel floor where Goro had been standing.

They don’t give him a moment of reprieve. It’s a smart tactic, Goro admits, especially since there’s only one of him and eight of them. But what makes it fun is well it looks like he’s on his last leg, ready to keel over and eat the dirt—

—Only to jump right back up and swing his sword into someone’s side or call out to Robin Hood to deliver divine light on his enemies, grinning broadly as his body glows from a freshly casted Diarama, courtesy of a Heal Charm so conveniently left on his person.

It just makes them angrier.

It’s riveting.

Goro twists his body away from a screaming Queen’s fist and the curling gale of wind Mona hurls his way. He lands hard on his side, skidding across the engine room’s floor with a bitten back groan, effectively staining his pure white uniform. He rolls over immediately, barely avoiding the spiked end of Sakamoto’s morning star and stumbles onto his feet. Ripping his mask off, Robin Hood materializes. With a wave of his massive bow, light green light washes over him and refreshes him completely. About five of the voices in the room let out furious yells.

“We are getting nowhere unless we get that Heal Charm off of him! Withdraw, withdraw!” Oracle hollers from above. Goro cackles loud enough that he makes sure it rings in their ears.

“I can’t believe this is what you were hiding all this time, Phantom Thieves!” He laughs as he swings his glowing blue blade up to block a slash of a katana from Fox, only to swing it around, pushing the fox masked thief away and protecting his other side, eyes meeting the manic ones of Noir as their weapons clash. He shoves her away and throws himself into a cartwheel, narrowly missing the burst of hellfire from Panther that materialized right where he was standing. 

“You should have revealed yourself earlier! I can't believe even those who claim to have a righteous sense of justice have the same bloodthirst I have! How amusing!” he cackles. He backflips away from the group as the thieves regroup away from him. They still look bloodthirsty, their weapons caked smattered with Goro’s blood from wounds long healed. Goro spins around until he meets Joker’s eyes, and only then does his smile grow into a grin that pushes at the corners of his eyes, the one that shows all of his teeth. The one those fake people are privy to only because he knows it will scare those cowards away.

“Tell me, how much satisfaction did you have, destroying Shadows to pieces? Especially when they haven’t had the chance to separate into multiple ones and they’re just goopy sacks of meat—those are the best.” Goro resists a shiver. “Don’t you agree?”

The Phantom Thieves watch him, narrow eyed and furious, but they don’t disagree. It only makes Goro grin even wider.

He can’t imagine what he must look like right now. He’s still clad in his white outfit, stained with dirt from the engine room and torn in so many ways from the wounds they managed to land on him during their brief dance of death. Despite his disheveled and wounded state, he still grins maliciously at them, red eyes reflecting their very own bloodlust.

“So?” Joker replies. His voice is low and raspy, dark in so many ways that sends chills up and down Goro’s spine.

“Why the tone, dearest leader? Are you embarrassed? Not willing to admit? You don’t have to hide how much it relieved you. I can see it in the way you move, the way you carry yourself.” He cocks his head to the side in a questioning manner. It’s an innocent gesture, ruined by the grin that cuts his face in half. “You’re outraged.”

“I didn’t expect the Detective Prince himself to fall under bloodlust. You seem so composed all the time, even while you were on the team,” Queen comments, frowning severely.

“I was wearing a mask as much as you all were. I couldn’t reveal all of my secrets. But now I know how similar you all are to me. That… makes things a lot better for me.”

“Better?” Skull grounds out. “What’s better about knowin’ how much something dies satisfies you?”

“What isn’t better about that? To see the amount of suffering I want to inflict on the sons of bitches that infuriate me, it makes my blood sing. What I wouldn’t give to hurt them the same way I hurt these Shadows, but beggars can’t be choosers. From the way you fight, I assume the same must apply to all of you.”

Almost as one, the thieves shift their gazes to each other and away from him. 

Fascinating.

“But this game of back and forth is getting boring. There are eight of you and one of me. Why haven’t I been reduced to ribbons yet?” He snaps his fingers, the sound muffled by his white gloves. “ Why don't we up the ante, hm? I just had a fun little idea.”

“If that idea ends with your head on the floor in defeat, then so be it,” Noir utters in faux cheer. She’s holding her axe so tight Goro wouldn’t be surprised if her knuckles are white underneath her gloves.

“If I were nicer, I’d say we do this fair and square, as Sae-san would say and drop the Heal Charm, but that’s not quite fair, is it? In fact, with a group this large, keeping the Heal Charm is the best boon I could have right now. Hm, I wonder how far I can go with this…” He shifts his gaze to the floor.

He feels Loki purr into his ear, the hot iron of the trickster god’s sword pressing against the edges of his mind. The edges of his familiar madness chip away at Goro’s absolute control.  _ Try them little bird try their bloodlust test their limits fight them at your fullest make them bleed make them scream take your dearest one’s heart and crush it. _

“Yes…” Goro rolls his head up, staring at the Phantom Thieves. “Care for one last dance, Phantom Thieves? And this time…” He reaches up to his red mask. The crimson of the mask starts flaking off as wisps of black and red begin rising from his feet. “...It shall be I who will be the victor.”

* * *

In the end, it’s all for naught.

Even in his true form, clad in black and blue stripes with Loki perched proudly on his sword behind him, it’s all for naught.

He screams at them of his circumstances as he fights, because there is no one else who understands what he feels, no one else who can feel the rage that churns within him.

But it’s an eight versus one battle. Of course, even with Loki, he was destined to lose.

“You all fight dirty,” Goro groans from the ground, facing up to the dreary ceiling of the engine room. His body aches all over, burns criss-crossing his arms, previously frozen fingers still numb, his left leg twitching from residual electricity. His mind spins from dizzying bright light, frightening darkness, and the eye popping colors of psychokinesis. It feels like he was thrown into a toaster oven and left there to overcook.

Somehow, it makes him feel at peace.

“Well, I suppose my time has come to an end, then,” he says. He can’t even move his head to look at the victors, but he can hear them. They’re all breathing heavily to the side, quiet words being traded between team members. He certainly didn’t make it easy for them to take him down, he made certain of it. He closes his eyes and exhales. “I suppose one of you will come to deliver the finishing blow? I don’t think my skin will look good on a dreary wall, though.”

And then, behind his closed eyes, his world washes over in light green. His eyes snap open.

Every pain in his body washes away. Goro flexes his clawed fingers. Carefully, slowly, he sits up. Diarahan, or something akin to that, he supposes.

“That’s where we are different from you, Crow.” Goro looks up to meet Joker’s eyes, freed from behind his mask as his massively black winged and dapper hatted persona appears tall behind him. The lingering effects of Diarahan fade and Arsene vanishes. Joker’s mask appears back on his face in a quiet burst of flame. “We will never, ever kill a person. We may get angry, so angry that bloodlust consumes us and we are forced to expel it on an unfortunate Shadow, but never on a real person. Never.”

Ah.

So that’s how.

That does make him quite different from them, then.

* * *

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Goro! Why would you--”

“Takes one to know one, Akira!”

“Crow!”

“Come on, what the hell!”

“Oracle, can you do something about this wall?!”

“I-I’m trying, but—!”

“Let him out!”

“Noir, the axe isn’t gonna do anything!”

“Megidolaon it, Joker!”

“I fucking want to, but Goro would—!”

“What the fuck is with this wall?! It’s impervious to all attacks! What kind of RPG shit is this?!”

“Auurgh—!”

“Crow!”

“What the hell man, fight back! We know you can!"

“Why does it sound like there’s more Shadows appearing?! Oracle!”

“Because there are! Tens more! Even we can’t take on this many—”

“That goddamn cognition—!”

“Hey! When you face Shido, do something for me—uurghh!”

“Goro!”

“I-If you won’t separate that man’s head from his shoulders, make sure his Shadow becomes nigh unrecognizable. Tear his face apart, rip off every one of his fingers, make sure that damn Shadow knows how much he made me—us suffer. Beat him within an inch of his life and make sure he knows.”

“...O-of course.”

“Good.”

_ Bang bang bang. _

* * *

“What is it with you and one liners?”

“Shut the fuck up and come on. There’s some things we need to discuss especially since it seems like you’re the only one who’s in their right mind.”

“...I still think you’re an idiot.”

“And I will say it again: takes one to know one.”

**Author's Note:**

> goro kills people's shadows. the phantom thieves don't. goro kills shadows of the sea of souls. so do the phantom thieves.
> 
> (i wrote this on a whim fuck inaccuracies)


End file.
